Monday, August 10, 2009

the best night ever

as soon as i got off work that nighti went and met up with two of my friendsi still had my backpack with me(i always feel weird going to the bar with my backpack still on but sometimes you just gotta do it)us three, chasing a massive highchasing another cheap shotchasing after womenchasing after another cigarettewe went to this barit was dark, down a side streetit started raining right after we walked inand there she was.sitting at the barreading the village voiceeating a slice of chocolate cake

i asked her if she is who i think she is.she said, "yes!"then i told her that i had a crush on her(thoughts racing of how i idolized her, envied her, wanted to marry her, etc, etc....)and she turned away from melooked to my friendsswiveled on the stool and asked us,"hey you guys look like you smoke c-notes"she looked down at the newspaper, pointing at a graphic of a greenback.she winked.

she was staying in a hotel in jersey for the nightwe took the path back with hershe invited me in pulled me by the hand and left my friends in the hallwayand we proceededto touch and wrestle and smoke and sniff (and fuck)then she packed her things and left townshe walked out the door into a beat up maroon van i watched her from the hotel window in a total thoughtless daze

i met up with my friends at some diner nearbythey asked how my night was i responded, "awesome"then they asked where the drugs were at.(in my euphoric daze i must have left my backpack at the hotel.)

by this time the sun was coming uprippling across the waterfrontcrashing against the immense windows of the hotelwhen i arrived, a large man was waiting in the lobby. (think: ted stevens from cursive or pete from the fifth wheel by bret easton ellis)i asked if i could have my backpack back.he pointed to it. "what this? you want this?"i stuttered, "well you di...didn't go through it did you?"he proceeded to explain, "in fact i did. i did go through it. and among other things i found two ounces of marijuana."

i didnt even run, i walked.i walked out calmlyexiting through the revolving doors.i didn't look back because i knew he was following me.

when i rounded the cornerthere he washe punched me in the facei didn't go down but lost sight for a momentwavering on my feet almost falling in the puddle i was standing in(oh god, she was so beautiful i loved the way she smiled at me from over her shoulder as she left oh god i would leave all of my family and all of my friends for her)then he punched me again right in the face. two shots right in a row.(is there something in that hedonism so thickly veiled are all these chemicals just a mechanism to keep us from animalism or maybe they bring us closer to it regardless its a choice its a choice to live with a bleeding stomach and a fried brain flailing wildly for love and companionship. some rastafarian sang that smoking ganja brings you closer to god...i'm unsure)"why would you do that?!?!?" i asked him. we ride in his car to the stationi saw a bum taking notes on a paper platein the front seat he was shuffling through my ipod"great selections man, you must be a rocker, nice, the bosss"(to be honest, i've hated bruce springsteen ever since he lived past 35)but i agreed with him and he put on the song, "she's the one"(the lamest song on the record)and i looked out the window (thinking: maybe ganja does bring you closer to god.)